


Experimentations in Being Human

by die_traumerei



Series: Renovations Isn't Just a Metaphor [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Found Family, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:22:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27128512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: When she takes a nasty spill while out with one of her human friends, Aziraphale can't exactly heal herself with an inexplicable miracle. And besides, it might be interesting to go about this the human way.(It is, a little. It's better when Crowley's there to help, of course.)Originally written for Whumptober 2020.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Renovations Isn't Just a Metaphor [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723783
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	1. Accident

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I'm sorry this isn't brand-new, but I wanted to break out the Whumptober stories that take place in established AU's, so everything is in one place, ready for your binging!

“Honestly, you're the most fussing person I've ever met! I'm just fine!”

Crowley had just let herself into the shop, and winced. First at Aziraphale's words, then at the wave of pain she could feel off of her angel. She was having a pretty bad spate with her hips and back, so it was that she wheeled herself a little faster to find Damien standing over Aziraphale, who was laid out on the sofa, her knee bandaged and a bag of ice draped over it. Her skirt was pulled up scandalously high, and Crowley couldn't find it in herself to be _entirely_ worried, what with angelic thigh to admire.

(Also, Aziraphale would be fine. Crowley would make it be so.)

“Oh good, you're here. Tell him I'm all right!”

“Tell _me_ what happened,” Crowley said, as Damien came over to kiss her cheek, because he was raised properly. With his back turned to Aziraphale, the angel could lay her hand on her own leg and soothe the pain, if not heal it entirely. Going from horribly swollen to perfectly fine was, Crowley had to admit, probably too much to excuse away.

“Your _wife_ ,” Damien turned around to glare at her, “refuses to go to A&E even though she can barely put weight on her leg.”

“Sounds about right,” Crowley said, wheeling herself closer and kissing Aziraphale. “What did you _do_ , love?”

Aziraphale groaned. “It's nothing, I swear. Just...an accident. A tiny one.”

“We were out for lunch,” Damien said, perching himself on the end of the sofa and stroking Aziraphale's hair. Oh, he loved them so much, dear old friend that he was. “She looked smashing as usual – honestly Crowley, you ought to rent her out to old queens so we can feel elegant again.”

“You're always elegant, my love,” Crowley assured him. “Wait 'til I'm back on my feet, I'll make you feel like the belle of the ball.”

“Why wait?” Damien asked. “We'll draw every eye in the room right now, gorgeous.”

“ _I'm right here_ ,” Aziraphale said.

“Is that in protest for the flirtation or the renting you out?” Crowley asked, making eyes at Damien and very subtly curling her hair a little more. She was _high_ femme today, even had tits and everything, and her wheelchair was a sleek matte black that matched her heels.

“...actually, neither,” Aziraphale had to admit. “We _did_ have a lovely lunch, you darling man.” She sighed, and closed her eyes. “It's these bloody heels. Crowley, I don't know how you walk in them.”

“Oh, no,” Crowley said sympathetically. “Caught on something?”

Aziraphale shook her head. “Slipped. Went down with my usual grace.”

“Hey now,” Damien and Crowley said together, and Crowley touched her cheek.

“Oi,” she said softly. “You had an accident. It doesn't say anything about you, beautiful.”

Aziraphale opened her eyes and smiled softly at them. “I love you both very much. As I said, I went down hard. Not very far away at least, and poor Damien helped me home.”

“Twenty years ago and I would've carried you like a knight in a tale,” Damien promised her. “But we managed, you and me.” He sighed. “Crowley, I _really_ don't like how her knee looks. It's swollen badly, and she can't put any weight on it hardly. I wrapped it up, but I'm not exactly a doctor.”

Crowley chewed her lip. Of course either of them could heal Aziraphale in moments, but it wasn't...the done thing. They were at least pretending to be human – although Damien had politely ignored their lack of ageing, and oh yes the way they could both change their bodies up. One did not grow the tits Aziraphale had overnight. A miraculous healing might be a bit too much.

(They could wipe his memory, but they'd long ago agreed to never do that to their beloveds. It felt...wrong. Disgusting, somehow. A breach of trust.)

“Love,” she said gently. “Even wrapped it doesn't look good. I know you hate it, but will you let Damien take you to A&E? I'll go with you too, if you want.”

Aziraphale must have been doing the same calculations she was. They were going to have to get through this the human way – although with miracles to block the pain far better than any dose of paracetamol would. Aziraphale might be grumpy and uncomfortable, but like hell would she be in _pain_. That really wasn't allowed.

“Fine,” she said, defeated. “ _Fine_. You win, although you'll see, it's nothing. I'm sure I'll be better tomorrow.”

Crowley smiled at her, and kissed her softly. “I'm sure, angel-love. My good girl. Let's get you up – you can borrow a pair of my crutches.”

Aziraphale sighed loudly, but when she could hardly take a step, even leaning on Damien's arm, admitted Crowley had a point.

They made quite a scene in the local A&E, Crowley reckoned, but it was miraculously over-staffed that day, and London was having a surprisingly accident-free day – unlike Aziraphale, it had to be said – and they were seen to quickly. It was...kind of interesting, she had to admit. To go through things the human way, the slow way. To make Aziraphale giggle and smile, to ease her boredom, and the nervousness of being x-rayed, of waiting in a bed with her pretty leg propped up, her knee still badly swollen. She and Damien were an excellent comedy team, if she said so herself, making the nurses laugh too, charming everyone they met, a kind of honour guard to cover for a slightly miserable, scared Aziraphale. Was this how humans did it? Full of compassion, gentleness, the nurse who complimented Aziraphale's dress and made her blush and preen, and the other nurse who had helped her settle in the bed, the compassion pouring off of her so strongly that even Crowley could feel it. She was matter-of-fact and maybe the most intensely calming person Crowley had ever been around, and she made her angel feel better, smile a little more confidently, and sigh in relief at the ice laid over her knee.

Aziraphale rested against the thin pillows, and watched Crowley and Damien flirt outrageously with each other. They were doing it to make her happy and, the shit of it was, it _worked_ . She forgot she was in a hospital bed – her! An angel! Who could miraculously heal herself except apparently when she was an awkward old thing who fell right in front of one of their human friends who had the _gall_ to love her and worry about her! It wasn't to be borne, really.

So she giggled and egged them on and let Damien declare his undying love to her and flirt and admire her body. He could actually do it with style, she had to give him that – Crowley just drooled at her, more or less. Honestly, one might expect better from your actual _demon_ , but not Crowley.

Damien, on the other hand, was just feeling up her good leg and making her giggle uncontrollably when someone showed up to go over her x-rays and the like.

It wasn't good news. It wasn't _bad_ news, she hadn't broken anything, but they suspected at least a serious sprain, and perhaps worse damage than that to some ligaments. She would get a heavy bandage and a knee brace to wear for the next week. She was to come back in if she still couldn't put weight on it when that week was up. She was to take it easy, and be careful, plan to need to the brace and crutches for up to a month, even if it wasn't any worse than a sprain. She was to let her friends take care of her, keep her leg elevated and iced, and come back in if the pain got worse.

Aziraphale's face fell further and further. What a stupid creature she was, the only angel in the world who would slip on something and wind up in A&E.

The only angel who pretended to be human so she could have friends, openly love the world, let herself be truly hurt so they wouldn't be worried or scared of her. Even, perhaps, give them the gift of caring for her as much as she cared for them.

She smiled bravely, and held Damien's hand tight as they wrapped her leg up, the stiff brace...well, already helping, she had to admit. Crowley was right there too, smiling at her, pretty as could be and so gentle. Aziraphale would use her crutches, and that was...something soft and good. Crowley did this all the time, and there was something there, about how human disability was, and how Crowley was way ahead of her on so much.

They made it back to the bookshop, the three of them, Aziraphale slow as she learned to use the crutches, awkward with her leg forced straight. A back bedroom had appeared about the time Crowley first needed to use a wheelchair, and it was surprisingly sunny and big and pleasant, for what probably should have been a box room carved out of the back of a bookshop in the middle of one of the densest neighbourhoods in London.

“I didn't even know you _had_ a garden back here,” Damien said, standing at the huge picture window.

“Oh yes,” Crowley said cheerfully. “We just don't do much with it.” Indeed, it was a riot of colour and overgrown flowers and roses and grass that had become a meadow. There were birds everywhere, and bees hummed as they went about their work, deeply startled to find this corner of paradise here. It would provide a wonderful distraction for someone who, say, had to settle on the long, low window seat and not move around very much while keeping her leg iced and propped up on the handy foam wedge that also happened to be there.

Aziraphale went for the bed, though, deciding that even if she hadn't _earned_ it – well, she'd earned it. Damien and Crowley did their best to make her comfortable, fuss a little, love a lot, and who couldn't laugh and feel treasured at that?

They did chase Damien home, finally, swearing up, down and sideways that they were fine, _fine_ , and Crowley got him to promise to take her out to dinner soon so they could wow all of London with their style. There were many kisses, and Aziraphale got a whole, long hug all to herself, before he finally agreed to leave on the condition that they'd agree to let someone check on them every day.

(Of _course_ their entire circle knew. Of course. Crowley's phone had been going off constantly all afternoon, and there had been pictures and selfies and more pictures to document her journey through the NHS. The x-rays had been a particular hit. So had the shot that was inexplicably just of Crowley's cleavage.)

Aziraphale enjoyed her three minutes without fussing as Crowley saw Damien to the door and oh _all right_. It was lovely to be in bed with her darling, Crowley hauling herself in beside Aziraphale easily and the two of them laughing already, hugging and kissing properly, really properly, long and languid and with plenty of tongue.

“What a pickle I'm in,” Aziraphale sighed, and Crowley threw her head back and laughed.

“You done fucked up, angel,” she said, and laughed again at the dirty look she got before hugging Azirpahale harder. “I love you. You promise me it doesn't hurt?”

“I promise,” Aziraphale sighed. “Also I shall be effecting a miraculous recovery a week from today.”

“That's my girl,” Crowley said, and kissed her cheek. “I _am_ sorry, angel. Pickle is right.”

Aziraphale smiled and looked at her leg, bandaged from ankle to hip. “How do they do it? That was frightening.”

“The same way you just did it. By being scared, and having nice nurses to help them, and friends who love them,” Crowley said gently. “And a very hot and sexy wife, I might add.”

Aziraphale smiled. “You forgot modest.”

“So I did!”

Would Aziraphale ever stop laughing at her demon? Probably not. But right now it felt so good, to be loved and cuddled, to have someone take care of her even though she didn't _really_ need it. But she did, because she'd got hurt, and had to pretend to be human. Maybe she'd even let her body heal itself, the human way. Out of curiosity. And a month wasn't such a _very_ long time, not really.

She rested her head on Crowley's shoulder and hugged her. “Thank you for lending me crutches. I like that they're yours.”

“So do I,” Crowley said, and kissed her brow. “Oi. I love you. This was just an accident, angel. Happens all the time.”

“I know, love,” she said softly, and snuggled a little closer. “You okay to stay in London until I'm back on my feet? Otherwise we'll have the children following us back home.”

“Of course. It'll be easier for you to get around under the human's eyes here than in the country,” Crowley agreed. “And it's such a nice time to be here.” She smiled and kissed Aziraphale's cheek. “We'll figure out how to get you to some proms, angel. And a nice dinner now and again, to keep your strength up.”

Aziraphale's smile grew. “Oh, I like that. I love you, Crowley.”

“I love you too.” Crowley patted her bandaged leg gently. “Here's to the human way.”

“To the human way,” Aziraphale agreed, snuggling more firmly in Crowley's strong arms. Between the two of them, and their friends, they'd get through this.


	2. "I've got you"

“I've got you.”

“Sweetheart, you fuss far too much,” Aziraphale said, but she couldn't deny it was a lot easier to settle on the sofa with Teddy helping her ease down.

“No he doesn't, _I_ fuss too much,” Crowley said, plumping a pillow underneath Aziraphale's knee where it rested on an ottoman. Well, her knee under the bandages and brace and swelling that was taking its sweet time going down. Doing things the human way was not all Aziraphale had hoped. Her tumble, it turned out, really hadn't been nothing, and four days in she couldn't even think of putting weight on her leg.

“You both do,” Aziraphale said, sighing as she slumped back. Teddy had taken her out to lunch, and it had been...all right. They didn't have to go far, and she was getting a little better on the crutches, and navigating with one leg forced straight and still. She even managed to look a little bit cute, thanks to a tartan dress, a _very_ well-engineered brassiere, and a little crinoline.

“I do not. You're poorly, aunty, I'm just helping you get a bit more comfortable,” Teddy said calmly, and he gave her a little squeeze. “There, I'll stop fussing and just cuddle. Fair?”

She smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Fair. I'm sorry. You're so very kind to me.”

“Pfft, kind nothing, I got a date with the prettiest lady in Soho out of this,” Teddy teased her, resting his head on her shoulder. “Aziraphale, you do so much for all of us. Let us do for you.”

“You're very silly, but you're also about the fifth person to tell me that this week, so I give up,” Aziraphale said, as Crowley, not to be outdone, neatly pivoted out of her chair to slump on Aziraphale's other side, putting her right in the middle of a cuddle pile. “Fine. You can do for me now by telling me all the uni gossip, my dear.”

Teddy laughed, and did as she asked, giving them a few juicy tidbits, but mostly just – sitting with her. Talking about his life. Letting her find where a little miracle wouldn't go awry, or simply loving him, letting the light of God's own shine on him a little while.

He kissed them both when it was time to go, and made them promise to be good, which made Crowley laugh so hard she almost fell off the sofa, but they did, and Crowley crossed her fingers behind her back and Aziraphale crossed her toes, so that was all right.

Aziraphale turned and smiled at Crowley once he'd left, and kissed her. “Hello you. Let's never do this again.”

Crowley laughed out loud and smooched her cheek. “That's on you, angel.”

“I know, I _know_ ,” she groaned and looked at her leg, touching the edge of the heavy brace. “At least it doesn't hurt. And I'm still healing myself as soon as it's realistic.”

“Mmmhmm.” Crowley touched the brace too, gently fascinated with all the elements, the careful way it all fit together, this thing the humans had made to help them heal. “Do you think you really will be better then? Only three more days.”

“I don't know,” Aziraphale admitted. “Maybe a little bit. I'll keep the brace on a bit longer, don't want to rouse suspicions. Everyone's seen my leg by now, so they know this is, well, a bit serious.”

“And a very yummy leg it is, even all banged up,” Crowley said, biting her earlobe to make her giggle. “Go get comfortable in the bedroom, you always feel better if you move around a bit. I'll make tea.”

“You dear,” Aziraphale said, and hauled herself up again. She settled on her crutches, careful to keep weight off her bad leg, and started her way to the back bedroom.

Crowley watched her go for a moment. She was hurt, _really_ hurt. But not in pain. And she'd heal, miraculously or naturally; no need to fear lingering problems. No need to worry about surgeries, long recuperations, complications. This was...an experiment. A little trial in being human, with the training wheels on, so to speak.

It was an interesting experiment, certainly, she thought, as she made tea. It showed peoples' best sides, in a lot of ways. Their inner circle, of course, dropping by regularly to cheer them both and bring food or drink or just a few pleasant hours – enough so that the two of them, who liked their privacy, had gently set times in which they were At Home, and most of the rest of the day, in which they very much were not.

Admittedly, they weren't going out much, but it seemed important to draw together. Crowley couldn't physically support Aziraphale, but she could tease and flirt and make tea and get takeaways, and just...be with her angel.

And it wasn't just their circle – people held doors for Aziraphale, were kind to her, were patient. It was good to see, to remember that people were gentle and good too.

Crowley was only a little surprised to see Aziraphale in the window seat; it was clearly her new favourite perch, with pillows laid out to cushion her leg and a little end-table to hold the tray of tea, and the tiny patch of wild in their impossible back garden to gaze out at if she ever wanted a break from reading.

“Hi, angel,” she said softly, and touched Aziraphale's good leg. You know, just to check on it. Had to make sure her thigh was in good working order. Best to really reach up there under her crinoline. Crowley was a martyr, just a _martyr_.

Aziraphale turned to face her and smiled. “Hullo, you.” She reached out, and took Crowley's hand (the one not feeling her up), and they stayed like that until their tea was cool enough to drink, just holding hands and being together.

“All _right_ , all right, it's time for your treat,” Aziraphale grumbled, crutching over to the bed, her leg a little awkward in its bareness. She'd bathed, using miracles with frank abandon and declaring that she needed a break from, well, everything. And so she'd taken to a hot bath with a book and a large glass of wine and a box of chocolates, and passed _many_ happy hours, frankly. But it was bedtime now, and that meant everything back on her leg, which meant Crowley and her newly-learned skills.

Crowley, it turned out, was _fascinated_ by human medicine. In general, and specifically as it was applied to Aziraphale. She'd pored over the photos she'd taken of Aziraphale's x-rays, carefully identifying everything she saw, zooming in and examining the way the joint worked, how the bones met, the ghost-images of Aziraphale's leg. She'd checked everything over twice and confirmed that nothing was broken, and had then found an old anatomy textbook in the bookshop to read up on ligaments and muscles and things.

And, of course, she was allowed to replace the compression bandages and re-do the brace, carefully going through the instructions they'd been provided to click and velcro and tighten and check in the recommended order. Aziraphale could take it or leave it, frankly, but Crowley's clear desire to be a nurse was so _cute_. Especially when, as now, she wore the little hat and cape.

“Just relax, angel,” she said warmly. “I'll take care of you. Let's get that leg immobilized and you'll feel so much better.” She was perched on the bed, legs in a tangled sprawl, her own hips and back refusing to be human. It was nice, in a way, Aziraphale thought, that she could bring a little extra human-ness to their lives. This quiet exploration of vulnerability and need was...instructive. And Crowley was awfully good at doctoring, anyway. Probably best she handle it all.

Aziraphale smiled, settling back as her beloved went to careful work. So much comfort, so much support. So many people who helped and loved, over text or in person. She didn't plan on repeating this little experiment again – it had _hurt_ , and hobbling about wasn't any fun at all – but if she _had_ to, well. It would be all right.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> dietraumerei.tumblr.com


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